[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Ennahir son of Marenil handed the reins of the visitors' horses off to a young stablehand, and called a page over. "Go get Lord Farlen, lad, he's in the west pasture."

"The one with the sheep?" the lad clarified, and at Ennahir's nod was off at top speed.

Ennahir led the man and the boy (Must be a brother, ages are wrong for a son, he thought) into the solar, bidding them have a seat. "The Lord will be a while coming in from the fields, but will see you as soon as he may."

A maidservant brought in a tray of cheese, bread, and early spring strawberries, leaving it on a table and whisking out without a word. Ennahir, too, left, to prepare some hot water and fresh clothing for his lord. Several ewes were near to birthing today, and Farlen would be as sticky and dirty as anyone else. The young man could easily wait an hour or so.

"So we have to wait to see the pirate chasers?" asked Feo with a mix of disappointment and enthusiasm. He could barely sit still for having been on horseback so long. For all that the pony was small, so was Feo, and he'd fidgeted more than he'd ridden quietly, it seemed. Degas couldn't fault him... he was no Rohirric youth, raised as much on four legs as his own two.

"Yes, boy, we do. They've not even been summoned; only the lady's father has. I wonder at the exclusion."

"Do you think they're not at home?"

"I think that they might be anywhere, though it is planting and birthing season both, so it could simply be that they are more needed than Farlen in the fields."

"And Farlen--"

"Lord Farlen."

"And Lord Farlen the lady's father then? You said her name was Linduial?"

"That I did, and yes he is. Please, Feo," Degas added, quietly, his stomach informing him that the tray of snacks could not suffice to staunch either his hunger or the nagging feelings of guilt and worry. "Say nothing in his presence unless he asks it of you. You will not, I am quite sure, want to be the subject of his focus."

It was indeed a full hour before Lord Farlen, brother to Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, was announced and stepped into the room, his powerful presence instantly arresting the attention of his guests.

Farlen was a tall, imposing man, with eyes like steel and dark hair peppered prematurely with gray. It was no sign of age or weakness, and one who knew Linduial marveled at the relation between her delicate beauty and her father's forceful countenance. He was dressed simply, in a snowy white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and dark breeches. His resemblance to his brother was striking: they were as like as twins, though Farlen had never had Imrahil's interest in statecraft, despite his understanding of it. He had a mind like a trap, and when he looked Degas over quickly before meeting his eye, it was evident.

"Degas of the Folde, eh?" he said sharply. "A long way to come from Rohan for a social visit. I'm assuming you bring news of my daughter."

The boy he ignored, for now. It had been a long day; they'd already lost a ewe and her lamb, and the cursed sheep seemed even more clever than usual at getting into ridiculously inaccessible places to give birth. He could think of no good reason why someone would be bringing news of his daughter, and no other reason for an emissary from Rohan to come to him, rather than to the city, and his already strained temper growled low under his voice.

"Your assumption is correct, Lord Farlen. I will speak plainly; I am of the Folde, more recently of Minas Anor, and am currently residing in Lord Eodwine's halls, the very place in which I am sure you know that Linduial stays with Marenil as guardian. Linduial has been kidnapped." Farlen was silent and Degas continued, waiting for the outburst he was so certain would come. "Her abductor has issued a demand for ransom. Queen Lotheriel has issued a search party that Lord Eodwine and members of his household have joined. It may well be that she is returned to safety even as we speak. My journey was long and I met with unavoidable delays."

Degas fell silent and waited for response, wondering if Farlen would ask how Linduial was left unprotected. His vision of his own honor dictated that he should offer the information, but he was unsure what to say. He had never before acted as messenger and did not quite know where to begin, save where he already had.

Farlen immediately gave the man his full attention. "She was what?" he barked, not waiting for an answer. "Ennahir!"

The young man appeared immediately at his lord's elbow, and Farlen wasted no time in issuing his orders. "Send someone to the city after the boys. Someone fast." Ennahir nodded and disappeared.

"We'll have a while before my sons arrive. Tell me everything."

"Where should I begin, Lord? There was a well-sized horse fair in Edoras several days ago. The city was full and it was an event of much excitement. I escorted Linduial and a small child of our shared household. In the market, we were separated. I blame myself; I never should have looked away, even for a moment. A moment was all that it took.

"I turned and did not see her. I gathered up the child and searched the immediate area with no luck. Nobody appeared to have seen her and nor could I. I made my way back to Eodwine's hall, hoping that she had wandered, lost sight of me, and made her way back to meet me there. When I returned, she was not there.

"It was not terribly long after that Lotheriel arrived, bearing the letter from her captors and a number of well-trained men. I rode out shortly after. I have told you what I know and remember, though it is possible that I know and have not thought of details that you wish to learn."

Degas went silent, meeting the eyes of Farlen.

Farlen returned his gaze with a stony expression. The lad had been careless, that was clear, but he had owned up to his responsibility for the incident, and was certainly brave in coming here. And yet...

"It stands greatly in your favor that you come to speak to me of this, but that may not stead you well should lasting harm come to my child," he said carefully, not wanting to say anything in the heat of the moment he might regret later. His heart felt like it had sunk to his feet, and he knew he would not be able to focus on the lambing any more today. "Lin's brothers will be here in an hour or two, though, and I can not promise they will see it that way."

He wanted to threaten, to shout, to ride off at the head of an army as he had done in his youth, not so very long ago, and find and protect his daughter, and yet he could do nothing. He called another servant, and realized with another jolt of age and helplessness that he didn't know the name of the lad who answered. So many are gone...they go and new ones take their place, and by the Valar in their glory, I'm tired. I begin to see what they meant by the gift of Men. There will come a day when it will be a relief to set this by...and I probably have another fifty years of strength ahead of me, at least.

He left instructions with the lad to offer his guests a place to wash if they desired, and a full meal. He wondered briefly about the young boy with the messenger, but it didn't seem important, and didn't concern him. He was too tired, just now. He left the room without another word to either of them.
"So he didn't kill you."

Degas heaved a sigh of relief even as he glared at Feo. They followed the servant and Degas looked ahead to see if the lad had overheard; he made no move to show that he had. "Boy, watch what you say."

"My nose is in the way."

Degas raised a hand, not really intending to hit Feo, and the boy knew it and stuck out his tongue. "You are a hooligan and deserve a good thrashing, boy."

Feo calmed and walked next to Degas. "So we're being fed?"

"Yes."

"Do I have to pay for it?"

"Only in that you will thoroughly wash before touching the food. Hot water, soap. Scrubbing. Much though I appreciate the smell of horse, I like to smell it on horses, not boys."

"But Degas--"

"You will wash yourself to the point of pinkness or I will do it for you. I'd rather you save me the effort; I am tired. But do not think, boy, that I will not dunk you in a tub until you sparkle."

Feo walked silently now, moping. Degas walked silently, pondering. The servant showed them where they could find cleaning items and left to bring them food.